


What I Tell You Three Times

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Doesn't work out, M/M, McShep Match Challenge 2007, Off-World, Second Chances, Team Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-22
Updated: 2007-09-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guards thrust a sack into John’s hands, showed him the hunters who would follow him to keep him on the path, and pushed him through the arch. The priest looked at him coldly. "You have until sundown. I suggest you run."</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Tell You Three Times

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the 2007 McShep_Match, where I was a member of Team Angst. Thank you to TrinityofOne, Zoe Rayne, and Sherrold for doing a beta on it.

  
  
The ocean churned beneath him, covering the sound of John's footfalls as he ran along the stone bridge, deeper into the lush green canyon of the devil’s cauldron. Every now and again, he could feel the splash of water against his face as some droplets snaked upward, reaching for the sky, only to fall back into the pit of rapids below him, twisting and churning over rocks in its headlong rush to the sea.  
  
Tongues of salt water spilled into a rocky basin, licking away the rapids, slowing devouring even the sight of the river; the ocean would reclaim everything in the basin at high tide. John had to get to the bottom before the sea did.  
  
Wind pulled at his hair and face, while the ocean spray made the narrow bridge slippery and dangerous. Loose rocks shifted under his feet, sending a spike of adrenaline through him, leaving his chest tight and shaken from the pounding of his heart. Over the sounds of the ocean, he could hear the hunters’ cries behind him, pushing after him. Not enough time. Not enough fucking time.  
  
They'd drugged the whole team, and taken Ronon, Rodney, and Teyla just after the welcoming fest, the damning nod of an aged priest marking them while the artifact he'd handed John glowed with a soft blue light.  
  
Demons, they said. Masquerading as human. The villagers had seen it before.  
  
"They're my friends, damnit. What have you done with them?"  
  
The priest sang of trials by water, wind and earth, trials that would prove the demons’ humanity or leave them bleached bones in the dirt, and John really didn't like the sound of that.  
  
"You have been marked as the one who may intercede on their behalf," the priest said, and pointed down a cobblestone path. "Only you can argue with the gods. Your speed and skill will prove your companions' right to survive."  
  
"Great," John growled. "So how the hell am I supposed to do that?"  
  
The guards thrust a sack into John’s hands, showed him the hunters who would follow him to keep him on the path, and pushed him through the arch. The priest looked at him coldly. "You have until sundown. I suggest you run."  
  
Breath rasping in his own ears, the noise of the surf and soulless cry of the sea birds surrounding him, John risked a glance at the distant platform: One figure, long hair falling around her face, tied to a pole on a platform in the middle of the path, the water rising around her. Teyla! She was too still, unconscious of the water rising around her. If she were awake, she would be cutting her way out of the ropes right now.  
  
He tried not to think of others, where they might be. Ronon would be okay, John assured himself; even if he didn’t get there in time, Ronon would manage to find a way out. He’d probably be waiting for John, knife in hand, and just grunt when John finally made it there.  
  
He tripped and fell, skidding along the path, arm outstretched before him. He winced as he stood—he could tell a bad case of road rash when it happened—but continued to run along the path.  
  
Rodney...Rodney would be bitching, verbally working out a plan for rescue, or just...yelling at him for being so slow. John swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, his head jerking as he swore he heard Rodney cry out.  
  
But all he saw was Teyla, the rough rope holding her upright; spray covered him, the cold water stealing his breath as John continued to run.  
  
***  
  
"So why is it that we aren't together?" Rodney said, leaning against the wall of John's office, laptop in the crook of one arm, coffee mug in the other.  
  
"You're straight, remember?" John shrugged as he plugged numbers into his Suduko square, filling in the center rows. "For that matter, so am I." It was a lie he was so used to saying, it almost felt like the truth.  
  
Rodney paced into the room and slid his laptop on the desk, looming over John. “What is straight, anyway? The prevailing binary model for both gender and sexuality--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I read Heinlein too. You want to share water with me." John turned his laptop so Rodney couldn’t look over his shoulder as he filled in the top row; he hated it when Rodney told him what to fill in next. Which was probably why he did it so often. "I told you I'm not good at commitment."  
  
"Who's talking about commitment? I'm talking about...blowjobs at convenient moments." Rodney perched on his desk, and managed to peek at John's game. "That should be a seven there."  
  
"Gee, thanks, McKay," John said sarcastically. He could feel the warmth pouring off Rodney's skin, the air between them charged and tight. He licked his lips, for a moment imaging what it would be like to finally give in, to slide down to the ground and just--he mentally shook himself. It wasn't worth the risk. He knew what would happen if he broke the rules again, and losing Atlantis wouldn't be worth it. "It's just a bad idea, okay? What was said on the planet of strange narcotic smoke should stay on the planet of strange narcotic smoke."  
  
"I'm talking about the occasional hand job, some situational groping, something like that." He leaned closer to John, his breath warm against John's ear. "You said you wanted me."  
  
John's toes curled with desire and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself; he paused in his pursuit of his fastest Suduko time ever, and looked up at Rodney, his mouth curving into a bitter smile. From the moment John stepped through the gate, Atlantis had been home to him, and the instant gene-fueled connection with the city was only a part of it. The people here were more his family than anyone he was related to by law or by blood, and he would do anything to keep his family together.  
  
In which case, duty and rules had to come first, and the irony of that just about killed him. "It's my career, Rodney. I can't." He waved at the doorway. "Go ask Katie out. I'm sure you'll wear her down eventually."  
  
"I don't want to wear her down, I want--" Rodney broke off and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm interested, you're interested, I still don't know what the problem is. You know that I...that what we...that this goes beyond what a friend feels for another friend. It shouldn't be this difficult to say yes to, you know, a casual, friendly--thing between us." Rodney shook his head. "I lo--like you. We're friends. Really good friends. Who save each other's lives. A lot. And how often do you get to have sex with someone you like?"  
  
John looped his arm over the back of his chair and looked at Rodney, wishing he could say yes. "I like everyone I go to bed with. Pretty much. Most of the time."  
  
"Ha! See?" Rodney snapped his fingers, and gave a thumb's up. "Why sleep with idiots you don't like when you could be sleeping with me."  
  
John sighed and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. This wasn't their first time through the subject, and it probably wouldn't be their last. "Date Katie," he said, slouching into his chair. He didn't really want Rodney to date her, but at least it would move the temptation from out of John's path. He picked up his game again, annoyed that he'd forgotten to pause and lost his chance for a record-setting time. "Or Miko. Or if you’re determined to date a man, how about Zelenka? I'm sure one of them would be accommodating."  
  
"Really? You think.... Huh." Rodney tilted his head, and really looked at John. "You're serious, aren't you? You really don't--" His face paled. Picking up his laptop with a shaking hand, he stuffed it under his arm and strode for the door. "Fine, then. I'll find someone else I like and have sex with them, and you'll see just what you missed."  
  
"What I missed is my fastest game yet!" John yelled after him, shutting the application down and closing his eyes when he finally heard the door close. Every nerve ending in his body tingled, and John's cock throbbed in frustration. Would it really be so bad to Just Say Yes?  
  
***  
  
John's feet skidded out from under him again as he hit the platform, and he rolled with it, scrambling to his feet so he could check on Teyla. She was breathing, but still unconscious, her skin cool and wet from the spray. There were a few bruises, and some scrapes, but nothing to indicate why she was unconscious.  
  
He fumbled with the wet rope, trying to get it untied, cursing his lack of knife. Giving up, he steeled himself and searched her for a hidden knife. "Sorry, Teyla," he apologized, "but I don't know where you keep the damn--"  
  
The body under his hand stiffened. "Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla said, lifting her head to look fiercely at him. "What are you doing--"  
  
"Sorry, Teyla." John dropped his hands and stepped back, carefully balancing on the narrow platform. "I was just looking for a knife."  
  
"I am afraid that they found mine," she panted, twisting around to try and give him slack in her ropes. "Ask Ronon if he still has one."  
  
"Great," he muttered. "Ronon's not here."  
  
"Where--" She struggled, craning her neck around to try and see over his shoulders. "Where are we? Where are Rodney and Ronon?" Her voice held fear, and John winced. He hated it when she sounded like that. Privately, he thought of it as her 'we are completely fucked' voice. John figured she'd learned it from Rodney.  
  
"Well, see, we had a little problem," John grunted, his too-thick fingers finally getting enough purchase to get one of the knots undone. "Apparently, the only people to come through the gate lately have been demons." He fumbled with another knot. "Raiders or something, I guess. They weren't Wraith, but they wore Wraith masks."  
  
Teyla's head jerked back, to try and get a look at him; John rubbed his hand against her upper arm. "Anyway, they devised a...series of tests to...make sure...they traded with...real people." The last of the stupid fucking ropes parted at last, and Teyla fell forward onto his shoulder. "And guess what? We didn't pass."  
  
Teyla panted heavily. "I should have asked more questions about their culture." Her hands and legs were swollen, and John could feel her unsuccessful try to push herself off of him, only to collapse against his chest with a small whimper. No fresh blood, though. A good sign.  
  
"Not your fault." Easing Teyla onto the ground, John rubbed her hands and feet to help get the circulation back. "You know how it goes." He sat back as Teyla worked on her legs herself; neither one bothered to comment on the stupidity of the whole thing.  
  
"Why didn't they imprison you?" She got to her feet, and stamped them; she looked rough but almost steady, good to go.  
  
Standing, John rubbed his hands along his pants. "Apparently, someone in the group may be a favorite of the gods, and allowed to speak with them on the demons behalf." Close enough. "That's what that whole business with the Ancient night-light was about. They use that to tell them who that guy is."  
  
"And your gene set it off."  
  
"Yeah." Sometimes having the gene was a real pain in the ass. "Anyway, they gave me some water and a bunch of this crappy fruit-and-nut stuff, shoved me out the door, and said I had until dusk to save everyone. You were the first I found."  
  
Handing her the waterskin, he glanced at the next part of the path as she drank. The path climbed to the other side of the cliff and then spiraled up the mountainside, climbing higher than John had descended in his race to find Teyla. He could barely make out a dark shape on another platform set into the cliff wall; from the size, given the distance, he figured it was Ronon. "Can you run?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Cool." He grabbed on her hand and tugged, looking back over his shoulder at the edge of the bridge; he swore he could hear the villagers after them. "They only gave me an hour's head start."  
  
They took off down the spiraling path toward the next platform. Rodney was still nowhere to be seen.  
  
***  
  
Bucolic. That was the word that John thought best described MK3-987, with its six-legged goats and sheaves of purple-veined wheat lying in neatly harvested fields. Long wooden houses with squat, fat barns--all with escape tunnels in case the Wraith arrived.  
  
Bucolic in the Pegasus sense anyway.  
  
Durrin cleared his throat, drawing John's attention back to the dinner table. "You are still young, and have many years left in which to enjoy a family." His deep bass voice reverberated through the wooden hall. "Many of our women would be happy to lie with you, if none of your own people--"  
  
Yeselt slapped him on the shoulder, and Durrin cast a bemused look on his wife. "Women's line," she said, raising a silver eyebrow.  
  
Durrin flushed and darted his gaze away."Ah, I am sorry," he said, turning back to John and Rodney and staring industriously at his feet. "I meant no disrespect to your homes."  
  
"Think nothing of it," John said magnanimously, wondering what the hell they were talking about. He'd have to ask Teyla about it later.  
  
But Teyla sat up late with the rest of the women, discussing trade and planting, so Rodney was the one who answered the question once they got back to their rooms.  
  
"He really thought we wanted--" John made a complicated gesture, trying to imply stud service and trade agreement at the same time.  
  
Rodney nodded. "Apparently, the Pegasus Galaxy is big on male exogamy." He pointed at his laptop and rolled his eyes. "Because of those stupid personnel evaluations, I've actually had to read some of the reports that the anthropologists have put together, and you would not believe the number of societies that have some sort of 'genetic exchange program' going on with other planets around here. Men traipse off from their home planets for a year or two, get a girl pregnant, and go home." Rodney paused, tilting his head as he thought. "You ever thought about doing that?"  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Being a sperm donor."  
  
"No." John pulled his shirt off and sat down on his bed to take off his boots. "It was one of the things that my ex and I used to fight about."  
  
"She wanted kids and you didn't?"  
  
John shook his head. "The other way 'round."  
  
"Oh. I thought--" Rodney fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. He cleared his throat. "You'd make a good dad."  
  
"Yeah, thanks." His feet finally free, John stretched out on the bed with a huge sigh, and stared up at the ceiling. Given how he'd screwed up his life, he didn't think he would have made that great of a dad. "I've kinda given up on the whole idea. I figure I'd make a better crazy uncle, the kind that gives your kids all of the stuff that they shouldn't have, like skateboards and chemistry sets. The dangerous kind."  
  
"Oh, good call." Rodney tapped a finger on his chin. "Maybe I should get Madison a chemistry set."  
  
"You want Jeannie to not speak to you ever again?" John arched an eyebrow as he looked over at Rodney. "Those things can cause some damage."  
  
Rodney snorted. "Please. I had one by the time I was eight. With proper instructions and procedures, they're perfectly safe. Though Jeannie would probably hog it all for herself."  
  
"I'm sure she'd let you play with it too." John hesitantly reached for Rodney, before steeling himself and letting his hand fall away; he turned his back on Rodney instead. "Night," he said stiffly.  
  
"Oh, yes, good night." Rodney was silent for a long time, just the sound of his deep breathing echoing in the room, before a softly murmur threaded the darkness. "Maybe... Maybe I should try dating Katie again."  
  
John forced himself to breathe evenly, even though his palms were itchy and his stomach clenched. Better for everyone if Rodney did go back to her. Better for John, anyway. "Now that Cadman's out of the picture, it might work a little better," he said tartly.  
  
"That's true. Hey, I bet I don't even have to try and explain it-- I'm sure she's heard by now that Cadman and I shared......." Rodney gave a huge huff of air. "Though I suppose women want to know the details, don't they?"  
  
"You'll think of something, I'm sure. You're a genius, right?"  
  
"True. I am." John heard rustling from the other bed and glanced over; Rodney was lying on his side, staring at John. "She'd be an idiot not to date me. And I'm not interested in idiots."  
  
His voice was rough, his eyes dark with want; John could feel a thread of need wind its way up his spine as he took in the way Rodney looked: his hands, his neck, his chest. He couldn't help letting his gaze wander, watching Rodney react and move, his mouth open, breath coming in large, deep gasps. It was an open invitation, and the question hung in the air between them. All John had to do was say yes.  
  
Instead, John rolled sideways, putting his back to Rodney again, and forced his head more firmly into the pillow. No matter what he personally wanted, he needed to stick by the rules this time. He couldn't risk losing his only home. "Not an idiot. Just not interested. And dating Katie sounds like a great idea. She’s...nice."  
  
"Yes," Rodney said softly, as the darkness closed around them. "She is very nice."  
  
***  
  
"Colonel!" Teyla shouted as something launched itself out of a dark slit in the cliff wall, dropping down toward them both. Instinctively, John flattened himself on the rocky path, his legs sliding out from under him like he was headed for home plate. A hawk-sized creature snagged the back of John's shirt in passing; talons dug into his back. John cried out in pain.  
  
The dull thud of a rock landing on its leathery-winged body made the creature shift, letting John go. He felt the wind from the flap of its wings as it hissed, wheeling backward and away from Teyla. John got to his feet as the creature climbed again into the sky.  
  
"Will it try again?" Teyla asked, another rock in her hand. "I believe I can hit it from here."  
  
He eyed the creature as it headed back to its cavern. "I think we're okay for now." He could feel the blood running down the back of his shirt, and the punctures hurt like a son of a bitch. He turned his back to Teyla. "How bad is it?  
  
"If we had the medical kit--"  
  
"We don't." He turned back to the path, Teyla taking his arm and moving with him.  
  
More birds emerged from the cave as they passed, but none of them attacked. Instead, they rode the air currents of the devil's cauldron, swooping up and down, crying out their hunting calls.  
  
John envied them. It looked like they were having fun. His eyes hurt and his head pounded, like he had a bad hangover, and his feet weren't having any fun either. He took a sip from the waterskin, frowning as he realized how light it was. They were getting kinda low, and would have to find a stream to refill it if they could.  
  
"Come on, try that again!" Ronon's voice roared above the screech of the birds. "I can get you before you get me."  
  
"Ronon!" Teyla yelled, her voice scratchy, and covered the distance to the edge of the platform as quickly as she could. She grabbed on to the edge of the platform and gingerly hauled herself up while John mentally groaned. He felt a little light-headed, and his legs ached from running so long; he wasn't sure if he could haul himself up to join them. His chest felt tight and hot, while the road rash on his arms and the puncture on his back throbbed with every beat of his heart.  
  
But Teyla was in pretty rough shape, and she'd already climbed up to the platform; John took a deep breath, then followed Teyla up over the edge; knocking something aside as he climbed. He took a look at what he had crawled over: a dead bird lay on the platform; Ronon had a dozen or so small puncture wounds like John's, along with several bruises on his arms. His lips were smeared crimson, and John really didn't want to think about where the dead bird had come from.  
  
"Took you long enough," Ronon rumbled.  
  
"We came as soon as we could," John said, as Teyla started work on the knots. "I don't suppose you happen to have a knife?"  
  
Ronon twisted his head toward John. "They missed one in my hair."  
  
"Most people do. I think that's why you grow it that way, so no one will touch it." He ran his fingers through Ronon's dreads, combing carefully through the bloody mats in back, probably from a blow on the head. Not good.  
  
"Not sure I can run," Ronon said as John tugged on the knife. "They got my right knee pretty good."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll get you out of here." Handing the knife to Teyla, he took a quick look around. The sun had passed midday, and the priest had said he had until sundown to visit the mercy of the gods on his friends. He could also see the hunters behind them, climbing the same path he and Teyla had just taken.  
  
He still couldn't see Rodney.  
  
"Get him back to the jumper," John said and nodded at Teyla "I'll keep moving, try to get to Rodney. Those guys," he gestured at the hunters behind him, "are following me, to make sure I don't chicken out on the quest. I don't think they'll mess with you."  
  
"Maybe I'll mess with them," Ronon said, as the ropes around his hands parted. As the blood ran back into his hands, Ronon threw back his head, and yowled out in pain. Fuck. Given how an arrow through his leg barely made Ronon wince, he must have been pretty messed up to yell like that. John could see torn fabric and a lot of crusted blood, but Ronon pulled the rope from his legs himself. His leg buckled, but Ronon gritted his teeth and grabbed at the post; after a moment, he was able to stand without it.  
  
John grabbed onto Ronon's arm to put it over his shoulder, but Teyla stepped in front of him, and pushed him away. "I will stay with Ronon," she said calmly. "We will follow you as swiftly as we can."  
  
"Thanks, Teyla," John said, taking the knife she held out to him. Then, his body protesting, John clambered down off the platform to the next part of the path and started to run.  
  
Atlantis was his home because of the people in it. It mattered that they all survived.  
  
***  
  
The _Daedalus_ remained in orbit while General O'Neill and Mr. Woolsey took one of the jumpers back to Earth to handle the political fallout from the rescue mission. Elizabeth let Caldwell's Marines stand watch in the gate room, and for the next 24 hours, Atlantis was nearly empty, waiting for the old expedition members to be recalled, and for the general to say whether John would be court-martialed or not. Even though he said they could stay, there was still a chance that someone would make it a difficult proposition, and Woolsey was the one who would talk to the IOA about Elizabeth keeping her position.  
  
Hanging around the gate room got old fast, with the _Daedalus's_ Marines casting suspicious glances at everything. After some long silences and significant glances, Teyla and Ronon decided they should return to the Athosian encampment to gather their things and explain what had happened.  
  
Replicator dust lay over everything--floors, windows, halls, benches, consoles--a thin film that clung to every surface. Atlantis looked like she'd been shut down for years--centuries, maybe a couple dozen millennia. There hadn't been this much dust when they first arrived. John, Rodney and Carson helped Elizabeth set up her office, dragging in some of the couches from the hall, and giving them all a clean place to sit. Elizabeth dimmed her office windows so the gate room could no longer be seen, and everyone talked about life back on Earth and how glad they were to be back in Atlantis. Rodney talked about experiments that he wanted to run now that they had three ZPMs, while Carson stuck to stories about his family back on Earth. John wasn't thinking too hard about anything, letting the possible consequences for stealing the jumper and disobeying Landry's orders stay distant and quiet.  
  
Elizabeth just looked wiped. For a while, they were able to pretend that this was just another senior staff meeting, with them all huddling together for a private conference, but the echoing silence of Atlantis pressed in on them all.  
  
Slowly, they each drifted off, until not even Carson could keep the silence at bay. "How about a drink?" Elizabeth asked when the silence felt deafening. "Carson, didn't you say you had something stashed in your office?"  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say stashed, exactly." He stood and stretched. "More accidentally misplaced?"  
  
"Accidentally misplaced?" Rodney blinked at him. "What does that even mean?"  
  
"One of the Marines gave me a 15-year-old bottle of Laphroaig as a thank you, right before he shipped back to Earth," Carson hurried to explain. "I was a bit busy at the time, so I pushed it into my desk drawer, thinking I'd take it back to my room one day." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Somehow I always forgot, even when we went back to Earth."  
  
"That's okay," John said, standing and slapping Carson on the arm. "We know you're a lush." He hitched a thumb toward Rodney. "We'll go back to the jumper and get the MREs while you and Elizabeth get the booze. I'll move the jumper up to the regular jumper bay while we're at it."  
  
"Oh, hey, shouldn't someone stay here in case there's a gate activation?" Rodney said, looking up at them all from his chair.  
  
"That's what the Marines are for, Rodney." Elizabeth glanced at her watch and shook her head. "The SGC won't contact us for hours yet, anyway."  
  
"What about Ronon and Teyla? They were said going to be back chop-chop."  
  
"Have you ever been to an Athosian council meeting?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Trust me," Elizabeth sighed. "It's still too soon." She lightened her windows again, and stared at the Marines.  
  
John nudged Rodney. "Come on. Don't you want first dibs on the food? You don't want to be stuck with Chicken with Noodles, do you?"  
  
"Good point." Rodney scrambled to his feet and followed John into the control room, the Marines watching them carefully as they headed towards the no-longer-underwater secondary jumper bay. John had no doubt that they were to keep an eye on the team as well as Atlantis.  
  
The halls felt eerie without the usual to and fro of expedition members. Rodney brought out his lifesigns detector as they headed down the stairwell, even though there was nothing to see; John figured it was the comfort of having something to do. He talked louder than usual, his gestures broader, more animated, while John pulled into himself, becoming quieter the longer they walked.  
  
John wished that he had something to do other than wait. A thousand thoughts dashed through his mind, each one worse that the last. He clung to the idea that O'Neill would work a miracle, and that tomorrow, the first set of Atlantis expedition members would return. He didn't expect that the general would be able to gloss over what he'd done to get here, but he hoped that the IOA would keep Elizabeth on. She deserved to be in Atlantis, and more than that, the expedition needed her. "Anything?" John asked, to distract himself from his thoughts.  
  
"Nothing," Rodney said, his head down, gaze focused on the life signs detector. "It's clear."  
  
Flicking his hand over the controls, John opened the door that would let them into the jumper bay where O'Neill had kept diving for the auxiliary controls. An eddy of replicator dust spilled out, a gentle puff of air that showed how hard Atlantis's filtration systems were working to clear it all out.  
  
Rodney sneezed. "God, I want a shower. I’m breathing dead people."  
  
Once they made it to the formerly underwater jumper bay, the whole place lit up when John stepped inside, and for a moment, it felt exactly like the first time he'd set foot in Atlantis. He finally had someplace he belonged. John really hoped that once the military got through with him, they would let him come back, even in a reduced capacity. He wanted to stay here as much as he wanted to fly.  
  
"Isn't that just typical," Rodney said, gesturing around them with his life signs detector. "She really does love you best."  
  
Huh. That kinda hurt. Maybe it was because John knew that without him, Atlantis would just find a new favorite son, while John would never be able to replace his home. He'd given everything for her, and there was a good chance that he might not be able to come back.  
  
Stepping into the jumper, John headed up to the pilot's seat while McKay dug around in back for the MREs. John radioed the Marines, letting them know that he was moving the jumper.  
  
"Hey, we didn't bring any of the Chicken with Noodles. Ohh! There's two of the cheese omelet. And hey! Looks like Teyla brought some of the hedgehog fruit as well." Rodney sounded happy as he assembled what they'd need for dinner, so John closed the hatch, and pulled out of the secondary jumper bay.  
  
He let himself get lost in the process of flying the jumper, taking them up out of the water for a quick little cruise that wasn't really necessary, and would probably give Caldwell a conniption fit. At some point during his maneuvers, Rodney moved out of the back and stepped in beside him, staring out of the viewscreen. He could feel Rodney's presence as comfortable and familiar as the quilts his grandmother used to make, and decided he'd turn the jumper toward Atlantis.  
  
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Rodney said as they made their approach to the city, his hand negligently brushing the back of John's neck.  
  
"Yeah, she is." John threaded through the towers to the jumper bay, feeling content and at peace. Even if they sent him back to Earth, saving her had been worth it.  
  
There wasn't much to unload. Rodney had divvied everything up into two piles, and they brushed against each other picking up the stacks. The warm contentment John had been feeling was suddenly laced with another feeling, one of want and desire. It wasn't enough to just casually brush against each other; John wanted more, wanted to feel Rodney pressed up against him, a talisman against anything that might happen tomorrow.  
  
If they sent him back, the longing he felt when he looked at Rodney would be his one real regret. He'd broken enough rules now that breaking one more really wouldn't matter.  
  
He caught Rodney staring at him, and saw his own desires reflected back. Holding each other's gaze as a long moment passed, John carefully set the stack of MREs on the bench next to him, his eyes never leaving Rodney's.  
  
Rodney was just as careful setting down his backpack of equipment; then he stepped forward, cupping John's face in his hands, and gave him a slow, deliberate kiss. Feeling Rodney's lips pressed against his, like he swore he’d never do, felt awesome. John decided to just go with it.  
  
Groaning, John eagerly returned Rodney's caress as Rodney's arms wrapped around him. His breathing quickened; he needed more. Rodney seemed to understand, his broad hands pressing John's shoulders with a promise.  
  
Pulling back, he looked carefully at John, his blue eyes wide with need. John could see him bracing himself, pulling back, waiting for John to shove him away. "We don't have to do this," he said carefully, and John could hear from the way his voice cracked how hard it was for Rodney to keep himself together. "We can just walk away."  
  
Yeah, walk away. John didn't even bother following up on that thought. Tomorrow, if it turned out that he'd lost this, lost his friends and his home--he wanted to miss this, too. Putting his hands on Rodney's hips, John brushed his thumbs over Rodney's hip bones, hidden under his uniform and boxers. There was a time he wouldn't have been able to feel the little knobs under all of that flesh, but Rodney was leaner and more fit than when he'd first stepped through the gate into Atlantis. "I don't want to walk away." Not from you, not from Atlantis." He could feel Rodney shudder under his touch. Leaning in, his lips brushing against Rodney's ear, John said, "That question you've been asking me? The answer's yes."  
  
Rodney's lips brushed lightly over John's neck, painting a line up his throat and chin to settle, butterfly light, on John's lips. The kiss deepened, and John was tasting more, something that made him ache.  
  
His radio crackled. "John? Rodney? We found Carson's stash. Are you two coming?"  
  
John grinned at Rodney, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I think we're going to use the ready room for some showers first."  
  
He can almost hear Elizabeth's nod. "We'll see you when you get here then. I don't guarantee anything to drink if you're late."  
  
"We're fine, Elizabeth." Rodney slid his free hand up John's arm. "We'll be there as soon as we can." He tugged on John's arm as he clicked the radio off, and twisted him round, so that John had his back to the jumper. Rodney frantically kissed him, all lips and tongue, his hands holding John right where he wanted, as if he was afraid that John was going to make a break for it.  
  
Okay, given what John had said before this, it wasn't a bad assumption. Again with that whole smart people thing. "Hey, it's okay, sport. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Not right now, no," Rodney grumbled, pulling at John's shirt. "And did you just call me sport?"  
  
"Uh, maybe," John said, frantically tugging on Rodney's shirt himself.  
  
"You are going to have to come up with some better nicknames," Rodney said, sighing as John's shirt pulled free; Rodney ran a proprietary hand over his chest, messing up John's chest hair. "Sport just doesn't do it for me."  
  
"How about lambchop or pumpkin?"  
  
"Please. Now you're making me hungry." Rodney leaned his hand against the wall next to John's head and looked at him. "I think that whole name the puddlejumpers something catchy thing was an aberration."  
  
John grinned, rubbing his hand down the front of Rodney's pants, feeling how nice and thick his cock was through the fabric. "I'm hungry, too."  
  
"Does that line even work for you?"  
  
"I don't know," John said, unfastening Rodney's pants and sliding his reddened cock out of his boxers. He sank onto the floor, and looked up at Rodney, grinning wickedly. "Why don't you tell me."  
  
He thought he heard a small thunk as he slid his mouth over the head, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.  
  
***  
  
The path led behind the stone pillars and threaded along a tree ridge, eventually striking out into a large, arid plain. At least Rodney was away from the water, John thought, his head pounding as he looked across the grainy landscape. That had to count for something.  
  
His tongue felt thick inside of his mouth, and he couldn't work up enough saliva to spit. He'd left the water with Teyla, and he was out of the fruit and nut things he'd been given. Maybe that was a good thing, though, as his stomach felt so unsettled he wasn't sure if he could keep anything down. He kept going, one foot after another, dragging himself forward, his steps muffled by the dusty ground. He'd keep moving until he found Rodney, he had to find Rodney, had to keep him safe. The mantra in his head merged with his muscles, and it was like the words themselves kept him upright and moving, all of him focused on finding Rodney.  
  
The sun beat down on him, and John stumbled over a cracked stone on the path. Narrowing his eyes to look at it against the setting sun's glare, John noticed that not only was the stone cracked, but something was stuck in the crevice. Picking it up carefully, John turned his back on the sun so he cast a shadow over the object, so he could make out what it was.  
  
He wished he hadn't. It was one of the spare buttons that they used to repair their uniforms, the ones made by the Athosians from the clay on their new home world. It had to have come from Rodney's uniform.  
  
Tucking it into his pocket, John brutally forced himself to start running again.  
  
***  
  
While Rodney was in the shower, John made a circuit of the room, finding his clothes. His shirt and pants were easy, but where the hell were his socks? He found one hanging over a lamp, and the other was under a bench; he was just pulling them on as Rodney emerged from the room, briskly toweling his chest dry.  
  
"John?" Rodney said, stopping the instant he saw John. "What's going on?"  
  
"Figured I'd go back to the jumper and get the MREs we promised. You can go on to Elizabeth's, and I'll be there in a bit. "  
  
"Okay, see, that doesn't sound good. Shouldn't that be _we'll_ go get the MREs and then head to Elizabeth's?"  
  
"No." John laced his boot up and tied it tight, furious with himself for letting this happen. "I will."  
  
"You're running again, aren't you?" His voice was cold and flat, making John shiver.  
  
It had been worth breaking the rules to save Atlantis; John would accept whatever shit they pitched his way to keep his home and his family safe. He'd thought this would be just one more broken rule, and that when it was all said and done, he'd walk away with one less regret, instead of one more.  
  
Home and family didn't mean some general hand wave of Atlantis and the people in it. Home and family also meant Rodney McKay. "Rodney--"  
  
"You are. The only reason you did this-- I don't know why you did this. It's not like we're going to die or anything-- Oh. My. God. That's it, isn't it? You think they're going to pull you back to Earth tomorrow."  
  
Sometimes the fact that Rodney was a genius was incredibly annoying. "Yes. No. Just. Don't start this, Rodney, okay? You know I can't. Look, this is just the way it has to be."  
  
"No, it doesn't." Rodney folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"Yes, it does. I'm military. You know what that means."  
  
"I could sneak around. I offered that before."  
  
"Yeah, and I know. And that's real...nice of you to offer." John's stomach felt like a mixture of ice shards and gravel, but he knew what he had to do. He told himself over and over again that this was something he couldn't have, that even if he stayed on Atlantis, it would be too big a risk. "Look, I'm sorry." He glanced at the ceiling, the floor, and the walls. “We, uh, can’t. We just.... I’m sorry."  
  
Rodney didn't move; John could see him out of the corner of his eye, and immovable piece of stone. "Yeah, you said that. Why don't you tell me what that really means?"  
  
John shook his head and stood, looking at Rodney right in the eye. "I should never have let it get this far." He didn't know how to put what he was feeling into words, and so as usual, he made hash out of the whole thing. He watched Rodney's face harden as the silence stretched out between them.  
  
"Fuck you, Sheppard," Rodney said coldly. "You wanted me to move on and date someone else, well, you've got your wish. You will never have to worry about running from me ever again." He gestured toward the door. "I'll be fine."  
  
As the door closed, John realized he really could use that drink.  
  
***  
  
Trial by Water, Air and Earth. John cupped his hand to his forehead, so he could stare out across the dying plain, to where Rodney was up to his chest in quicksand. "About time!" Rodney yelled hoarsely. "Get me the hell out of here!" He waved an arm that he's somehow managed to free and keep out of the mud. "Throw me a rope or something, and we're good."  
  
"Rodney?" John's vision greyed out for a moment, and he shook his head to clear it. Thank god, Rodney was still alive. Looking around, he spotted a dead sapling that looked study enough and long enough to reach Rodney. He had to dig at it with the knife a bit before he could break it.  
  
"Sinking here!" Rodney snapped while John worked. "Chop chop!" He flailed his arm again, and John could see that Rodney was about two seconds from real panic.  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Stick in hand, John forced himself to move slowly and calmly toward Rodney, his eyes seeking out the bits of stone path that were visible. He made himself sound cool and relaxed, while his heart pounded and his mind said to run, run, run. "Try not to move too much, okay? You're not going to sink."  
  
"Not any more than I already have, you mean." John could hear the eye roll in Rodney's voice, but he didn't sound as panicked. "Just throw me a rope, and then you and Ronon can haul me-- Where's Ronon?"  
  
"Ronon and Teyla are right behind me." John looked around the area for a stick or something, but there was nothing nearby. "They're both injured, but doin' okay. Are you tied to anything?"  
  
Rodney shook his head 'no.' "I think my feet have chains on them, but I can't tell. When I woke up, I was already partly under. I did free this arm before I sank too far."  
  
John lay down on the spit of stable land, and shoved the sapling in Rodney's direction. "Grab this."  
  
"A stick?" Rodney managed to twist enough that he could get a hand on it. "That's all we've got?"  
  
"Yeah," John said, pulling the sapling toward him. "Just a stick and me."  
  
He concentrated on pulling as smoothly as he could. Rodney's hand slipped off, and John had to push the stick out again, but they did manage to get him moving. Slowly, John hauled him closer to the stable ground, yelling at Rodney to 'pretend he was floating,' which got a 'hello, chains on my ankles' in response. John's muscles twitched and cramped in protest, but he couldn't, couldn't let Rodney go.  
  
He wasn't going to run out on Rodney again.  
  
He must have passed out or something, as the next thing he knew, Rodney was squatting beside him, his face etched with worry. "John?"  
  
"Yeah," he croaked out. "I'm fine." He fumbled around, found Rodney's hand with his own, and squeezed. "Glad you're okay."  
  
With a wistful smile, Rodney pushed John's hair out of his face and squeezed back. "Me, too."  
  
John searched Rodney's face, waiting for that feeling of connection between them to start flowing, for him to feel in sync with Rodney again. But something between them had closed off, and Rodney's bright smile had dimmed from the way John remembered it.  
  
While John had been running, Rodney had moved on.  
  
Even though it was what John had been telling him to do, the knowledge was like a solid blow to the gut, leaving him breathless, his insides heaving; John rolled over onto his side and winced, trying to cover how he felt. Instantly, Rodney ran his hand over John's side, grumbling to himself. "You strained something, didn't you? You should never have--huh, what's this?" He pulled the button out of John's pocket and held it up to the light.  
  
"Nothing. Just something I found on the path." John turned away from Rodney's face. "We'll need to get our packs."  
  
"The villagers gave them to us, while you rescued Rodney," Teyla said, startling John. She and Ronon must have arrived while he was passed out. "They said that they would be happy to trade with us."  
  
"Now? Are they crazy?"  
  
She gave him a serene look. "Or we are free to leave and come back later."  
  
"Later," John said. "Much later." He squeezed his hands together tight, trying to warm them.  
  
"Yeah, let's go." Rodney helped John to stand. "Beckett will want to look at you. But I'm sure you'll be fine, Colonel; you always are." He patted John's arm, and for some reason, despite the bright sunlight, John had never felt so cold.  
  
"Let's head back to the jumper." Looking out across the plain, John said listened to his team fall in behind him, and his mouth tasted like it was full of ashes. "It's time to go home." 


End file.
